Flynn's Philosophy
by Amanda Larson
Summary: Lieutenant Flynn takes the lead on a difficult case. Will the hard-boiled detective go soft? Original character. Rated T for language and some violence.
1. Chapter 1

_Author note: I finally managed to finish. Thank you so much for the reviews, and thank you to ManateeMama for catching the problem with an officer handing a gun over to a civilian! I've fixed a few typos, made Molly an only child, and tried to fix the gun problem in chapter 13, but haven't made any plot changes in the chapters that have already been posted. Thank you for reading!_

_The Closer is owned by Warner Brothers Television. I wrote this story purely for fun._

* * *

"Bad news, folks," Sanchez said grimly as he walked into the murder room. He was holding up a FedEx package bound with blue tape. Flynn felt his stomach tighten. The room fell silent as all eyes turned to the Chief. He saw her take a deep breath and set her jaw before striding toward Sanchez, pulling on gloves as she went.

"When did this arrive, Detective?" she said in clipped tones.

"Delivered this morning. It just got through the screeners. It has a mail-drop return address, just like the others."

They had all gathered around the Chief now, faces tight as they watched her examine the small package. Tao held out the duster and she let him run it over the outside. He shook his head.

"Damn," she muttered as she slid a box cutter under the tape. Carefully, she removed the tape and lifted the lid off the box. Inside was a flash drive, and next to it, nestled in bloody surgical gauze, was a small toe, tiny nail still painted with chipped pearl pink polish.


	2. Chapter 2

Flynn had silently scoffed when Buzz excused himself from the murder room, face tinged green, but now as they sat gathered around the video display he rather wished he had joined the kid. Lunch was not sitting easily.

In a way there was nothing new on the screen. Third woman in as many weeks, sitting on a wooden chair in a dimly lit, empty room, reading from a crumpled piece of paper she held in badly shaking hands. Unlike the other two, she did not keep her eyes down and mumble hurriedly through the prepared speech. This one articulated slowly, attending to the words she was speaking, and every few seconds her eyes would raise and she would look directly into the camera. Flynn shuddered at the intense, haunted look in those dark brown eyes. It was clear she was using every ounce of her willpower to keep herself together. That was bad news for her. He knew she was going to need a lot more in the very near future.

He marshaled his own willpower to subdue his rising gorge and focus on the video. Any details might help. Dark brown hair streaked with gray, falling softly around her face. Good color in her cheeks. Clearly the surgery hadn't happened yet, though the look in her eyes told him plenty had happened already. Good speaking voice – obviously used to reading aloud. The way her voice echoed indicated the room was probably empty and had a hard floor. _Great, _Flynn thought. _That narrows it down._

"Wait," he suddenly said. "Back up a few seconds, Buzz."

"What is it, Lieutenant?" the Chief asked.

"You hear that?" he said with growing excitement. "That's the third time she stuttered."

Provenza rolled his eyes. "So what? She's shaking like a leaf. Of course she's stuttering."

Flynn shook his head. "No, she's not. She's a good speaker. Go back and listen to the other words she stuttered on."

As Buzz tracked back, Gabriel looked over his shoulder at Flynn. "You really think this lady has been kidnapped and beaten, probably knows she's about to lose a body part, and still has the presence of mind to send us a message?"

"I don't know!" Flynn snapped. "I just want to check it out, if you don't mind!"


	3. Chapter 3

"Okay, so we've got a name." Provenza scribbled "Mackie" on the murder board.

"_Might_ have a name," Gabriel said. "It could have been complete coincidence that she stumbled over those letters."

Brenda gave Flynn's shoulder a sharp squeeze as she passed by him. "Well, it's worth checking out," she said. "And remember, we actually have four names, thanks to the ego of our killer."

"Why do you think he has them announce their names at the beginning of every video, Chief?" Sanchez asked.

"To humiliate them," she said softly as she stared at the list of victims on the murder board. Natalie Gallego. Sarah Bristol. And now Molly Hughes. "And because this is personal. He's targeting these women in particular. That's probably why he also leaves the bodies for us to find. He wants us to know he has triumphed over them, and over us."

Flynn looked morosely at the pictures next to the victims' names on the board. Gallego and Bristol's bodies had both been found in dumpsters off of Hollywood Boulevard, minus the parts delivered by FedEx. The surge of triumph he had felt when his hunch paid off in a possible name had been quickly squelched when Hughes delivered the final line of the speech, a line that had been delivered by two women before her: _My physician sends this small sample of his work. Please remember that more will follow if his demands are not met, and there's a limit to my capacity to give._ Her eyes had started to widen in understanding before the video mercifully cut off. Flynn had taken that opportunity to visit the men's room.

The Chief turned decisively from the board. "Lieutenant Tao, you and Buzz go over that flash drive with a fine-toothed comb. And get that file as enhanced as you can, video and audio. There's got to be something more on there. Detective Sanchez, follow the backtrail of that package. Lieutenants Provenza and Flynn, find out everything you can about this Molly Hughes, and see if anything ties these three women together. Dr. Mackie has to be someone they all knew. Detective Gabriel, you and I will go to the morgue. Thank you, gentlemen."


	4. Chapter 4

Leprous brown patches undulated over a cratered gray surface. Molly blinked. Gradually, the water stains on the popcorn ceiling came into focus. She had been staring at them for two days now, but her eyes traced the meandering pattern again. How old were they? Had the roof leaked? Was there another floor above this one, a decrepit toilet sitting above this bed, oozing foul water?

Much better to consider all the possibilities than to think about what was going on in her body, much less what was going on in the other rooms on her own floor. Yesterday afternoon, after her film debut, when she had been tied back up on the sagging bed, she had heard the sounds from the other room. The clinks of metal, the jaunty whistle. Then _he_ had appeared, dressed in green scrubs, wheeling in a metal tray…..no, she wouldn't think about that. She would think about the layout of the rooms again. This room: full-sized bed, metal headboard, window shade pulled down, small bathroom to her right. The "film room," empty and dark with both of its windows covered in dark fabric. There must be another room where he prepared the tray….

_Focus_, she ordered herself. _Remember your Epictetus._ She never thought she'd think about Stoicism outside the classroom, but hadn't Admiral Powell relied on the writings of Epictetus when he was shot down over Vietnam? _Oh, stop it! You're not a POW, for heaven's sake. This isn't torture!_ But what else could it be called when you were kidnapped, tied up, and…and…

Smells and sounds might help. There was the unmistakable scent of manure whenever he entered or left the apartment. _Central Valley_? Images from childhood floated to the surface of her mind. Trips to Southern California, Disneyland and grandparents, her dad aiming the station wagon straight down boring Interstate Five, miles of farmland rolling by. Heavy cow smells as they passed the feedlots in Coalinga. She and her cousin would hold their noses and retch dramatically, but secretly she sort of liked the aroma.

_Focus, dammit!_ Yesterday it had rained all day. She'd heard the raindrops against the window, and the squeaking of his shoes when he came in the front door. But today there was sunlight peeking around the edges of the window shade, and there was a new sound. A comforting, summer day kind of sound, so far in the background it almost didn't register at all. Molly closed her eyes again and listened. It was the sound of an airplane. Not a jet, just one of the small planes she associated with fine weather. She'd been hearing small planes all day, in a regular pattern over the house. This building must be under the landing or take-off pattern of a small airport. Was there any way to convey that information to her anonymous viewers? Would it make any difference?

_He _had said he was sending the videos to the police. He might be lying. Was he really stupid enough to mail evidence directly to them? Maybe not stupid, just colossally arrogant. His arrogance had worked in her favor, though. He fancied himself a surgeon. She had good reason to know he was no such thing, but the delusion was useful. He had collected little bottles of local anesthetic and antibiotics and something that had at least dulled the pain when the anesthetic wore off. His instruments looked clean, and he had put a clean towel under her foot before he had….

She glanced down at her foot, wrapped in white gauze. The pain felt something like that time in eighth grade, when she'd been horsing around with her friend and had stubbed her toe on the oak sideboard in the dining room. Hairline fracture. Geez, that had hurt. But that's how she knew the pain medicine he had given her today must be real. This time she had not broken her little toe. This time, it was gone. It seemed like that would hurt a bit more than a fracture, wouldn't it?

At least he hadn't given her enough medication to remove the pain altogether. He probably wanted to make sure she would be awake and scared enough to make a good video. But one side benefit of her alertness was that she could think about how to talk to whoever was out there. She pictured him as a kindly old cowboy, like John Wayne in his last movies. Or Clint Eastwood. Wise, sympathetic, but still dangerous enough to get the bad guys and save the day. _God, that's moronic_, she thought. But it was all she had.


	5. Chapter 5

Flynn read her faculty webpage for the twentieth time. Philosophy professor, Lucerne College. Philosophy professor? She didn't look like the crusty old guy he'd had in college. What a waste of time that class was. Well, except for the logic exercises. Deductive reasoning had been known to be of some use to a detective.

Nerdy professors didn't usually have a lot of enemies, though. And any enemies they made were more likely to pick up a poisoned pen than throw a punch. This Mackie guy wasn't some pissed off academic. What he was, in fact, was a five-pound, cherry-studded fruitcake. Was he demanding money? A pardon for some crime? Transportation to a tropical island? No. What kind of nutcase demanded admitting privileges at a tier 2 or better hospital?

And what could possibly tie him to these three women? Gallego had been a middle-aged housewife in Las Vegas. Bristol had been a psychologist in Palm Springs, close to retirement age. The three women had never lived in the same city or even the same county. They didn't go to the same colleges, weren't members of the same political party, didn't have the same hobbies. Bristol had received a hysterectomy 5 years ago, Hughes an appendectomy 20 years ago, but Gallego had never had surgery, so that possible link was a dead end. Flynn was starting to get a bad feeling that this guy had simply chosen three women at random and invented some story about each of them in his deranged mind. If that was the case, he and Provenza could study the womens' biographies as much as they liked and they'd never get any closer to figuring out who Mackie was.

Flynn dry-swallowed a couple of aspirin and rubbed his bloodshot eyes. If they didn't find this Mackie guy quickly, the next few days were going to be a nightmare. Tomorrow, another package, another part. If he stayed true to form, it would be a little finger next time, the cut end neatly sutured. Next day a kidney. Next day it was over.

Provenza's hand fell on his shoulder. "Go get some sleep," he said.

Flynn shook his head. "I'm fine."

"You're just spinning your wheels, and it's not doing anyone any good. Go to the bunkroom for a few hours. That's an order."

Flynn rolled his eyes and sighed, but he went. How did that putz always know?

An hour later he sat up suddenly, smacking his head smartly against the bunk above him. He cursed by pure reflex, but his mind was on the dream he'd just had. An old one, from childhood: he had to take an important exam, but he hadn't attended class all year, and he couldn't find his classroom. He wandered the empty halls, growing increasingly anxious.

"That's it!" He pulled his trousers on hurriedly over his boxers, jammed his feet into his loafers, and grabbed his shirt off the back of the chair. He was still buttoning it over his t-shirt as he strode into the murder room.

Provenza raised his eyebrows. "I thought I told you to get some sleep."

"I did," he said distractedly. He sat down at his desk and started typing impatiently.

Provenza walked up behind him. "You look like hell."

"Leave me alone," Flynn muttered. He continued typing, then finally settled back as he waited for the search results. He ran his fingers through his hair and re-buttoned his shirt the way it was supposed to go. When the computer finally gave him what he wanted, he printed it out and walked it directly to the Chief's office. Provenza followed him.

She was hanging up the phone. There were several empty candy wrappers on her desk, which she made no attempt to hide. That told him how tired she must be. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Chief, I think I know how to find this guy." He handed her the printout.

She looked at it for no more than five seconds and said, "Lieutenant, we've already considered the possibility that he's a failed medical student; Tao's trying to get records of medical school dropouts, and I've asked Fritz to come over and help us out, but it'll still take days to get the information narrowed down. We don't have that much time."

"No, Chief. I'm saying he may not have gone to medical school at all. He might have been stopped before that by his grades or test scores or -"

Brenda sighed. "Dr. Morales says the skills he has shown in all the surgeries indicate medical training, especially the removal of the kidneys from the first two bodies. They would have survived if he hadn't later killed them."

"He could have got that training somewhere else, even in another country."

"Fine, but we're already investigating the possibility that he might be a former disgruntled student of Professor Hughes. The college is working on getting us her grade sheets, but those won't show students who dropped out earlier in the semester."

"Dammit, Chief, will you listen to me for a minute? I know I'm not exactly the brains of this outfit, but I do have ideas sometimes."

The Chief's lips pursed and she looked impatiently at Flynn, her eyes snapping. "Well?" she said.

"Um…"

Provenza cackled as Flynn tried desperately to remember what he was going to say.

"Oh, yeah! The other women – what if there's nothing that ties them all together except Mackie himself? Maybe he blames each of them for his failure, even though the roles they played were very different. Look at the printout – Gallego was a housewife when she died, but twenty years ago she was a junior high school teacher in northern California."

"How could a junior high teacher be responsible for a student failing to get into medical school?" Provenza asked.

The Chief picked up the line of thought. "Well, if she held him back a grade or disciplined him, maybe that kept him from going to some fancy high school he wanted to go to, and then he thought that kept him from a top college."

"Exactly!" Flynn said. "And look at Bristol – she was in private practice her whole career, but there were times when she consulted with school districts to do IQ tests."

"But medical schools don't require IQ tests," the Chief muttered as she stared at the printout.

"No," Flynn said. "But elementary schools often use them to decide who gets into the gifted program."

Brenda's mouth dropped open.

"Huh," Provenza muttered.

"Lieutenants, get Sanchez and Tao to help you. We need records from the school districts these women worked with. Compare them with the college's records as soon as we get them, and see if one name pops up on all three. Hurry."


	6. Chapter 6

"Well, at least it's from her left hand," Provenza said as they all looked down into the box. "He's a considerate son of a bitch."

"Shut up," Flynn said through gritted teeth. "We need to look at that video. Now."

Brenda handed the flashdrive to Buzz. "Lieutenant Tao, keep looking up property records for Stuart Mackie and any friends and family he might have. Detective Sanchez, stay on that phone and locate someone who knows him. Agent Howard can help you. The rest of us will watch the video."

Gabriel glanced at his watch. "Four hours till his next operation, Chief."

"I'm aware of that, Detective!"

As Buzz pulled up the video file, Flynn muttered to himself, "Come on sweetheart. We've got a name, give us a location." But when the image appeared, his stomach sank. She looked as bad as the other women had on their second videos. White as a ghost, hair disheveled, eyes unfocused.

"Oh, geez," Gabriel sighed.

_The doctor greets you_, she said tonelessly. _There is no cow- no __**cause**_ _for alarm. Everything is proceeding as it should._

Flynn leaned forward. Could she be faking her stupor? He jotted letters on his notepad: c, cow, cause, caws, cows.

By the end of the gut-wrenching video he had a depressingly small set of senseless scribbles. Three possible letters: c, s, and p. What the hell did that spell? She had repeated some words, but they meant nothing. Cause or cows, small, plain.

"I got nothing," Gabriel said.

Flynn could feel everyone's eyes on him, the Chief's weighing heaviest of all. The letters swam in front of his eyes. All he could think about was the package that would show up tomorrow morning by overnight express, an organ inside, vessels neatly tied off. And tomorrow afternoon she would receive an overdose of anesthetic agent and that would be the end. He almost hated the Chief at that moment for assigning him to get to know the biographies of these women.

He slammed his yellow notepad down on Buzz's desk and stalked out of the room.

Five minutes later he returned to the murder room in a slightly better frame of mind, a large cup of coffee in his hand. The others studiously avoided looking at him. Most of them were gathered around the murder board, going over every piece of information for the thousandth time. Someone had drawn a cartoon cow off to the side, with Flynn's words below it.

Flynn stood behind the group and tried to take in the whole board at once. Not for the first time, he felt deep envy for the more brilliant members of the group. Tao with his encyclopedic knowledge of, well, everything. Gabriel's fancy education and sensitivity to psychological nuance. And, most of all, the Chief herself, who could think as many moves ahead as a chess master.

He accepted his role as the old-fashioned gumshoe detective. Give him a lead and he would follow it doggedly to the bitter end. If something tactical needed doing, he'd figure out how to do it and he'd plunge ahead into any situation, no matter how dangerous. But what the hell use were hair-trigger reflexes when the killer was nowhere to be found? His fingers itched to get ahold of the guy.

"Well," Tao said. "I guess the house he owns in Scottsdale could be described as small and plain, but the local police have already checked it out and it's been abandoned for months."

"How many properties does he own?" the Chief asked.

"Four around the country. I'm looking up his relatives' property now."

"Chief," said Sanchez. "Agent Howard and I have only been able to locate a cousin so far. She said she hasn't talked to him in years and doesn't know where he lives. She did confirm he wanted to go to medical school but never got in."

"Are any of his other houses small or in small towns?" the Chief asked.

Provenza exploded. "This is pointless! This woman was in no shape to be giving us messages, and even if she did she could have been referring to anything: a small room, a plain window, a cow-theme in the décor, anything!"

Flynn spoke up from the back. "No! She wouldn't try to tell us something like that."

Provenza turned around. "Oh, really? Would you mind telling us how you know that?"

Flynn walked to the front of the room and pointed at Hughes' picture. "Look, if there's anything I've learned from delving into this woman's history, it's that she's smart. She's also a good writer. I scanned one of her published papers and it was short but dense as hell. I remember my old philosophy professor hounding us to make every word count."

"So?" Gabriel said.

Flynn glared at him. "So, assuming she's alert enough to try to tell us anything at all, she'd tell us something useful and she'd use words efficiently. She's not going to waste time describing the house or the décor. She'll either give us more on the guy's identity or on the general location."

"Then why doesn't she just spell out 'Bakersfield' or something?" Provenza asked.

"I don't know. Maybe the city name has too many letters, or maybe she doesn't even know what city she's in."

"If she doesn't know what city she's in," Sanchez said, "how can she tell us her location?"

Brenda was close to the board now, staring at the picture of the cow. "She could describe it."

"Yeah, I guess she could describe what she's seeing or hearing…" Gabriel said, excitement creeping into his voice.

"Or smelling," Brenda whispered. She spun around. "Lieutenant Tao, are any of the properties you've looked up close to cattle yards?"

"Cows!" Flynn exclaimed. "Of course! And planes! As in small airplanes!"

Ten minutes later, Tao had his results. "Chief, Mackie's aunt owns a house in Chino, close to the private airport. There's a big feedlot operation on the outskirts of town."

"Fritz? Will you notify-" The Chief stopped and looked around. "Where's Fritz?"

"He shot out of here as soon as Tao said 'Chino,'" Provenza said with disgust.

"What?" Flynn exclaimed. He turned around from his desk, his suit coat halfway on. "Are they gonna let us do all the work while they get to play hero again?"

Brenda paused as she buttoned up her coat. "Relax, Lieutenant. We were going to have to get help from local law enforcement anyway. We can't let that poor girl stay tied up while we're driving through rush hour traffic to find her. Lietenant Tao, how close is the FBI to Chino?"

"There's a field office in San Bernardino. They can get there in 20 minutes. It's going to take us a good hour."

Brenda nodded. "Okay, let's let them handle it. The local police are probably closer, but they don't know the situation."

Flynn sighed and followed the group out of the room and down the fire stairs, all of them moving at a fast clip, though not nearly fast enough to suit him. He knew he was being stupid, but he hated letting the FBI take over. It wasn't as though they had a great track-record with rescuing hostages. When they reached Provenza's car, Flynn said, "Let me drive."

Provenza took one look at him and handed over the keys.


	7. Chapter 7

Noises and smells drifted in and out of Molly's awareness. Cheap shampoo. Clinking sounds again, but muffled. A bird chirping outside the window. Darkness for a while. Cheap shampoo, again. Her nose was pressed against fabric. A pillow. She was back on the bed, but lying on her stomach this time. The shampoo was what he had given her when he'd ordered her to take a shower yesterday and the day before. Nice guy. He'd even given her clean pajamas.

Everything was so foggy. She could hardly feel the pain radiating from her left hand, and her foot hurt not at all. Extra medicine. Why? She heard more clinking sounds. She buried her head deeper in the pillow and tried to drift off again. No use listening. She was pretty sure she had already made today's video. One line floated to the surface of her mind: _This is your last chance_. Only one thing ever came after the videos. She closed her eyes.


	8. Chapter 8

Flynn saw the shotgun aimed directly at the windshield and came to a screeching halt several feet away from the barricade. "Shit," he muttered as he held his badge out the window.

"My thoughts exactly," Provenza said as they waited for the agent to walk over. "Now I know how your car got into its present condition."

The agent leaned down. "You'll have to stay outside the perimeter. We've got a hostage situation."

"Hostage!" Provenza yelled. "The guy's still in there?"

Flynn reached out and grabbed the agent's forearm. "Have any shots been fired?"

The agent shook his hand off. "What's your interest in this, detective?"

Through gritted teeth, Flynn said, "LAPD. Major Crimes. You know, the people who actually _solved_ this case?"

"Oh. Sorry, sir. Um, I think they're just negotiating. No shots. You can go through." He trotted off to move the barricade.

Flynn jammed the lever into drive and eased the car through the narrow opening. "Thinks," he muttered. "He _thinks_ they're negotiating."

"Don't worry," Provenza said. "The Waco negotiations went on for _day_s before they stormed the compound."

"That's what I like about you, Provenza. You always know how to cheer a person up." Flynn pulled in behind a phalanx of FBI vehicles and walked quickly toward the group of agents standing uselessly in the street. He tapped Howard on the shoulder. "How's the girl? Does he still have her?"

Agent Howard turned. "He's not talking, but we used infrared and it looks like she's alive. Where's Brenda?"

Flynn let out a whoosh of air and ran his hands over his face.

"I said, where's Brenda?"

Provenza strolled up at a leisurely pace. "We passed Gabriel way back in Covina. They should be along in twenty minutes or so."

Howard nodded. "Maybe she'll be able to get him to talk. He hasn't responded to us at all; he's just pacing around one of the rooms."

Flynn stared at him. "You guys aren't going to wait to see if he feels like talking, are you? He's due for his next surgery any minute now!"

Howard looked steadily back at him. "We don't believe he'll try to perform a complex surgery while his house is surrounded by federal agents."

Flynn threw up his arms. "That's bullshit! You don't know this guy at all! He _wants_ to prove himself. What could be better than a high-pressure situation with a big audience?"

His raised voice drew the eyes of several agents. A tall, thin woman walked across the lawn and held her hand out. "You're with Major Crimes? I'm Senior Special Agent Bauer. What can you tell me?"

Flynn introduced himself and quickly summarized the profile. "We've got to get in there now, ma'am," he finished.

Bauer nodded her head and tapped her microphone. "We're going in, folks. 60 seconds. Stay with your team." Without a backward glance, she took off toward the house.

"Wait!" Flynn called out. "We want to assist."

She turned and looked skeptically at him and Provenza. "You can help cover the west side of the house. Follow Agent Dolan over there," she said as she shooed them off with a wave.

Flynn sighed and jogged around the right side of the house. There were only a couple of small windows on this side. It was obvious Bauer had just been trying to get them out of the way. Dolan had already taken up a position a few feet away from one of the windows. Flynn took the other and waited for Provenza to join him. Without an earpiece, he could only estimate when the team would enter, but then Dolan held up his hand and started counting down from five. Flynn nodded at him and drew his gun, leaving the safety on for now. Even if Mackie was stupid enough to try to escape through one of these windows, he certainly wasn't going to get through the small opening in much of a hurry.

_Boom! _The battering ram shattered the back door. Heavy boots echoed on the wooden floors inside.

"In here!" somebody yelled from the back room.

"Get her out!"

Shouts of "Clear!" echoed throughout the house, one issuing from behind the wall Flynn was leaning against. He raised his eyebrows at Provenza and received a shrug in return. Where the hell was the guy? Flynn lowered his gun and peered around the corner of the house. Bauer was on the front porch yelling at one of her agents, every word emphasized with a tap to the poor kid's chest.

The front door opened and Agent Howard emerged in a rush, carrying a large bundle wrapped in a blue blanket. He ran down the front steps and jogged toward the van parked down the street. Flynn holstered his gun and started to follow him, but he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Provenza.

"Where are you going? Dolan says they've lost the guy. We've got to find him!"

Flynn stared after Howard, who was running with a self-important air. He looked like he should be on TV. "Putz," Flynn muttered. He turned back to Provenza. "Wait. What did you say? They lost the guy? That's impossible, even for the FBI."

"Yeah, you'd think," Provenza said with an eye roll. "But even a 1200 square foot ranch house has these guys stumped. Let's give 'em a hand."


	9. Chapter 9

"Professor? Professor Hughes?"

"Unnh?"

"I'm so sorry to bother you, but we need to ask you some questions."

"Where am I?"

"Cedars ICU."

Molly's eyes fluttered. "Oh," she murmured. "Not _Gone With the Wind_?"

A snort of laughter sounded from her left and she opened her eyes to see a tall man standing by the bed, arms crossed. She caught a beautiful purple tie and dark, intense eyes before looking back at the slender blonde in the bright pink sweater.

The blonde's lips were a little compressed. "I'm Deputy Chief Brenda Leigh Johnson of the LAPD, and this is Lieutenant Flynn. We have some questions about Stuart Mackie."

"Who?"

"Stuart Mackie. The man who abducted you and sawed off your toe and your finger!"

"Chief," the graying man said, "she's pretty doped up. Let me get her some water and sit with her for a while till she wakes up. Go get yourself some coffee."

When the Chief had left, the Lieutenant pulled up a chair. "Here," he said. He handed her a paper cup and a tissue from the nightstand. Molly dried her eyes and took a sip of the crisp, cool water. It felt like heaven sliding down her throat.

"Let's start over," he said slowly. "My name is Andy. You were brought to the hospital about an hour ago. You're in the ICU for observation, but the doctors are saying you're fine and they'll move you to a regular room soon."

"My mother?"

"We finally managed to reach her. She'll be arriving tomorrow morning."

"Thanks." Molly put the cup down and pushed herself up in the bed a little. "I'm sorry I'm so out of it, but I think I can answer some questions."

"Alright, but let me know if you need to take a break."

Molly nodded. The detective was pulling a notepad out of his pocket. The cheap, wirebound pad clashed with the rich navy blue fabric of his jacket. _I wonder how much that suit cost?_ She knew she was doing it again: focusing on anything other than the lump of her left arm under the white blanket, or the larger lump of her left foot down at the end of the bed.

The detective's dark eyes rose to meet hers. "Do you remember being kidnapped?"

"Yeah. I was on my way to class. It must have been a Wednesday….Wait, what day is this?"

"Saturday. You were taken three days ago."

Molly felt her stomach unclench a bit. Three days was about what she remembered. "There was a guy in the faculty lot. He said his car needed a jumpstart. He looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't place him. I remember walking over to help him, and then I can't remember anything until…um…later."

"Can you remember his vehicle?"

She thought for a second. "Uh, it was a van. I think blue or gray?"

He nodded. "That's the vehicle we found parked in his garage. Did he talk to you much?"

"Yeah. After I woke up he talked for a long time, almost compulsively. He told me about all the unfair breaks, especially the way my failing him in that class kept him out of medical school. That's when I remembered who he was."

Her eyes shifted to the opening door. The Chief stepped in, balancing two coffee cups and a notepad in her hands while holding a pen in her mouth. The detective rose to help her and took one of the cups of coffee. "Thanks, Chief," he said. "She's remembering their conversations."

The Chief sat down and took the pen out of her mouth. "Good," she said with a predatory smile. "Let's see how many details you can remember. Did Mr. Mackie indicate where he's been living?"

"I got the impression he'd been in that house for some time."

"Why do you say that?" the Chief asked.

"He got mail there. Not just junk mail. I saw him opening some envelopes and they didn't have forwarding labels on them."

"Did he mention any other places he had lived or where he was hoping to go in the future?" she asked.

"Why would you ….. Oh my God."

"Professor? You okay?"

"Give her that water, Chief. She's white as a sheet."

Molly ignored the cup the woman was holding out to her and started pulling the tight blankets off so she could swing her legs out of the bed. The lieutenant's hands were instantly on her, pushing her back onto the bed. "Don't," he said sharply. "You're going to pull that IV out."

Molly pushed against him. "No! I have to get out of here. He'll find me! How could you have let him get away?"

"Hit that call button, Chief," he said over his shoulder. He looked back at Molly and tightened his grip on her shoulders. "Will you stop and listen to me for a second? You're safe here. Nobody is going to get you."

Molly's movements slowed. His hands felt like iron. Besides, she was suddenly aware of a deep throbbing in her foot. Running did not seem to be a viable option.

His hands loosened a bit. "Molly, there are two uniformed officers right outside that door, and they aren't going to leave you while you're in the hospital, okay?"

She nodded. He released her and stepped aside so the nurse could retape the IV. When she was done, she looked sternly at Molly. "Don't make me give you a sedative," she said with a wink.

The Chief and the Lieutenant were talking quietly in the corner. When the nurse left, the Lieutenant came back to the bed. "I need to go," he said, "but call me if you remember anything." He put a card down on the nightstand and left.

Molly looked at the Chief, who was digging through her gigantic black bag. Her hand finally emerged triumphantly with a card. She laid it down on top of the other card. "I've got to go, too," she said. "We'll get a full statement later when you're feeling better, but if you can think of anything that might help us locate Mr. Mackie, call right away."

"I don't understand how he got away. He was right there in the house with me."

"Well, apparently he had an escape route from the basement to the house next door. The FBI didn't spot it for several minutes, and by then he was gone."

Molly shook her head. "Don't get me wrong. I'm really grateful that they deciphered my messages. It was a total shot in the dark. But I wish they hadn't lost that guy."

"Oh no, Professor," the Chief said with a smile. "The FBI didn't decipher your messages. That was my team. Lieutenant Flynn, in fact."

* * *

"Provenza, it's me."

"Where are you?"

"Just leaving the hospital. The Chief wanted me to check on the van."

"Tao's processing it. He said he's found at least 5 different people's prints in there."

"Damn."

"What? He's beside himself with joy."

"I'm sure he is. But guess what you and I get to do next?"

"Oh no, no way. I haven't slept in 36 hours!"

"Too bad, old man. We've got to check on every one of those people."

Provenza muttered something under his breath that made Flynn chuckle. "You might want to ease up on the Scarlett O'Hara references for a while," he said. "She didn't react too well when Hughes cracked a joke."

"Our surgery victim was cracking jokes?"

"It was probably just the dope. She was joking one second, crying the next, and when she found out Mackie was on the loose she had a full-blown panic attack."

"Sounds like a lovely lady."

"Yeah, too bad she's too old for you."

Provenza snorted and hung up. Still grinning, Flynn got into his car and plugged the phone in. He grin turned into a grimace as he took a gulp of lukewarm coffee from the oversized mug sitting in the cup holder. He'd better refill that on the way back to the office. He didn't feel all that tired, though. They'd saved her. They'd got her out before the last surgery. She might be a complete flake, as Provenza had implied, but it didn't matter. She was a victim, and Flynn lived to save victims. That was one way he was different from the Chief. She lived to punish the bad guys. His motivations and hers usually led to the same result, but every once in a while they would pull in opposite directions. He knew she wouldn't hesitate to use Hughes as bait to lure Mackie back in. He wouldn't unless there was no other choice.


	10. Chapter 10

"It's not that bad," the nurse said.

Molly continued to look darkly at the gleaming wheelchair. "How am I going to drive anywhere?"

"When your friend gets here, we'll show you how to fold it up and get it into the car. You'll hardly notice it."

Molly bit back a sharp retort. It was easy for other people to tell her what she would and wouldn't notice. In two days she had grown heartily tired of cheery nurses. And now Jen was coming to pick her up. It should have been her mother, but Molly could tell when they'd talked on the phone that her mother really hated to cut her European vacation short. So Molly had done what she always did: told her mother things weren't that bad and there was no reason for her to return to the States.

"Ok, girl, up and at 'em," the nurse said.

Molly hobbled over to the chair, silently cursing Mackie. If he'd left her hand intact she could have been on crutches instead. Or, hey, maybe he could have left her alone altogether. Sure, and while she was at it she might as well wish for a winning lottery ticket to fall out of the sky.

Molly practiced maneuvering the chair to the elevator and out to the entrance, where Jen had pulled up in her roomy SUV. Her fluffy blond hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail and she had a big grin on her face. "Hey, you look like you're a pro already!"

Molly scowled at her. "Don't go signing me up for the special Olympics. I'm going to be out of this thing before you know it."

Jen exchanged a look with the nurse. Molly made herself smile. "Anyway, thanks for picking me up," she said. "Let's see if we can get this thing in there."

The three of them eventually got the Goldberg contraption folded up and stowed away. "At least it's not as bad as Joey's stroller," Jen said.

"Now I know why I never had kids," Molly said. She settled in for the ride home. It was only a few miles, but at this time of day it could take forever.

"So," Jen said cautiously, "You look like you're feeling a little better than you did yesterday."

"Yeah, it's a wonder what twice-daily therapy sessions will do for you."

"What did the shrink say?"

"Nothing very concrete. He said I'll be moody for a while, which was an understatement. He also said I'd go through the stages of grief."

"Grief?"

"Yeah, I laughed in his face. I couldn't help it – I kept picturing having a funeral with a tiny coffin for my finger and toe, and an itsy bitsy tombstone."

Jen started laughing. "What would it say?"

"How about: _The phalanges twins. They were useful._"

Jen exploded, and Molly managed her first genuine smile in many days.

It was hard to smile once she was on her own at home, however. Jen had brought over some groceries and had offered to stay, but Molly wanted to get back to her normal, independent life as quickly as she could. The wheelchair was too big to maneuver around the apartment easily, but she had a cane she could use for some walking. The doctor had warned her not to put weight on her foot for too long, but the need to be up and mobile was almost overwhelming after all those days of helplessness.

She hobbled around and put loose clothes and papers away. Work had been busy the last several weeks and quite a mess had accumulated. With any luck she'd be cleared to go back to work next week. Dave and Bruce had been teaching her classes for her, which she knew was a major burden. Besides, the last thing in the world she wanted to do was sit around. Yeah, that was a good idea. She'd get the apartment straightened up, get back to work, and it would be like none of this had ever happened. All things considered, she hadn't lost any more time than if she'd had a bad case of the flu.

The intercom buzzed and Molly jumped, dropping a stack of papers on the floor. She eyed the intercom warily, then limped slowly over to it. It buzzed again.

She pressed the button. "Hello?"

She heard a couple of breaths and then the sound cut off. She stood still for a minute, staring at the speaker. Finally, she turned and went to the door, looked out the peephole. Nothing in the hallway. She checked the deadbolt and hobbled over to the dining table to get a straight chair. She dragged it back to the door and propped it under the knob.

She needed to take a shower, but the thought of being naked under the loud stream of water disturbed her. If she could get the shower over with, though, then she could head down to the LAPD administrative building. She had promised to give them a statement. When she had talked to that chief on the phone, Brenda had told her she could stop in anytime in the next couple of days. Might as well get it over with, right?

She went back around the small apartment and checked all the window locks again before retreating to the shower.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gallego," Flynn said. "There was no necklace on her when her body was found."

"I guess the bastard took it," Rafael Gallego said quietly. He was fingering a simple gold ring. On the table in front of him was a pathetically small pile of objects: a purse, a scarf, one scuffed beige shoe. "You have to keep everything?" he asked.

"Yes, until we've got a conviction. I promise you'll get it all back, and you can sit here as long as you want. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Gallego, I need to take care of some paperwork."

Rafael nodded silently, staring at the wedding ring resting in his leathery brown palm. Flynn closed the door behind himself and walked slowly down the hall to the vending machine. He would have given anything for a shot of JD right now, or a king size chocolate bar, or even a blasted toothpick, but he'd sworn off all of them. He was stuck with stale trailmix or rubbery string cheese. Lovely.

He was gnawing on the cheese when the Chief came around the corner. "Lieutenant," she said. "I heard Mr. Gallego stopped by."

Flynn swallowed. "Yeah, Chief. He just wanted to look at his wife's stuff for a while."

"Is he okay?"

"I think so. He said he's moved in with his sister's family for a while, so at least he's not alone."

Brenda nodded. "Alright, when you get a chance, please start filing the Mackie materials away. We need to clear the murder board."

"Did I miss something? There's a deranged murderer still on the loose."

"I'm aware of that, Lieutenant. The FBI is going to help with the search for him – that's what they do best. Besides it could take weeks or months to find him, and we've got a new case to deal with. Three arsons around West Hollywood, the last one with fatalities."

"But we've still got to get down to the hospital to get Professor Hughes' statement. She's the best source of information that might help us find Mackie."

"She's been released from the hospital and she's-"

"What? Is she in protective custody?"

"The uniformed patrol in her neighborhood is stopping by her apartment several times a day."

"No, she needs a safehouse or at least surveillance. That guy wasn't finished with her."

"Chief Pope wouldn't authorize anything more. You know how he is about the budget."

"Screw the money! Chief Pope is a-"

Brenda put her hand up. "Lieutenant, Molly told me herself that she didn't want more protection. She felt comfortable going home."

"That's because she's in denial. In her little ivory tower world, things like this just don't happen."

"Well, what I was trying to say before is that she's coming in to give her statement in the next couple of days. If you're here when she drops by, I'd like you to take the statement. If you want to try to convince her to take some precautions, be my guest." Brenda turned and left, heels clicking down the hallway to her office. Flynn heard her door close sharply.

He tossed his cheese wrapper into the trashcan and wandered out to the quiet murder room. Most everyone was taking a couple of days off after the intense search for their last victim. As he walked toward his desk he caught sight of an unfamiliar figure sitting off to the side, facing the murder board. He saw her dark brown hair pulled back in a braid, and the gleam of silver handles behind her shoulders. It took him a second to realize he was looking at a person sitting in a wheelchair, and another half second to realize who the person was. "Tao!" he hissed. Tao looked up from his desk. Flynn frantically made the flapping hand gesture they had all started using to indicate the murder board needed to be covered up, fast. While Tao reached for the remote on Provenza's desk, Flynn walked quickly to the visitor.

"Professor Hughes," he said. "I didn't know you were…" he stopped. She had not moved. She was staring at the photos of Gallego and Bristol. He stepped in front of her, blocking her view. "…uh…I mean, I didn't realize you were coming in right now," he finished. He held his hand out to her.

Her dark eyes shifted away from the board and toward his face. She ignored his outstretched hand. "He killed them, didn't he?" she said angrily.

He dropped his hand and put it in his pocket. "Yeah, didn't you know?"

"How the hell was I supposed to know that?"

"Well, you could try opening a newspaper once in a while."

"Oh sure, it's really easy to get ahold of a paper when you're tied up in some sadist's bedroom or semi-conscious in the hospital."

"Well, let me give you the news flash, then. He carved 'em up and dumped 'em in the trash. Is that what you wanted to-"

"Everything okay, here?" Tao interrupted. "Professor Hughes, thank you for stopping in. I'll set you up in a conference room." He had already spun her wheelchair smoothly around and was rolling it down the hallway. Flynn followed, muttering under his breath.

As they were passing the interview rooms, a door opened and a brown face streaked with tears emerged. He spotted Flynn and gave him a watery smile. "Thank you. I'm done now," he said.

"Mr. Gallego, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Tao had stopped the wheelchair and turned his head to look questioningly at Flynn. Flynn took Mr. Gallego's elbow and led him around the chair. "Professor Hughes?" he said. "This is Mr. Gallego. His wife was Mackie's first victim. Mr. Gallego, this is Molly Hughes. She's the one who led us to Mackie."

Flynn stood back and watched them shake hands, neither speaking. Finally, Molly swallowed and said, "I'm so sorry about your wife, Mr. Gallego." Her voice was shaking slightly.

More tears were trickling down Rafael's face. He slowly released her hand. "You are a very brave woman," he said. "They told me how you sent your messages. God willing, they will be able to catch him soon and he won't do this to anyone else."

Molly nodded silently.

"I just remembered," Rafael said. "My family is meeting with the Bristol family for a memorial service. We met at their daughter's funeral and we wanted to get together for something less formal where we can remember both women. I would like it very much if you could come, Mrs. Hughes. And you as well, Detectives," he said, looking up at Tao and Flynn.

"I'd be honored," Tao said. Flynn and Molly echoed him. By the time Rafael had given them the information and told them about all the different foods he had specially ordered, his tears had dried and he was smiling. Tao patted him on the back and started walking him out, steering him away from the murder room.

Flynn grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed it to the conference room. When he had the chair pushed up to the table, he said, "I'm going to get some coffee. You want some?"

She nodded.

He brought back two cups of coffee from the break room and plunked one down in front of her. He sat on the other side of the table, pulled his tablet toward himself, and said, "Okay, let's get this over with."

She was using a napkin to soak up the puddle of coffee around her cup. Her eyes raised to his. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Flynn rolled his eyes. "You want me to call in the custodial staff?"

"I'm not talking about the coffee! I mean introducing me to Mr. Gallego."

"Yeah, well I thought you could use a reality check."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Flynn sighed. "Nothing. Forget it. Let's just get this statement done."


	11. Chapter 11

Molly grabbed her red pen and attacked the paper in front of her. Three misspellings, two fragments, and a split infinitive all in the first paragraph.

Someone coughed. Molly jumped and looked up. A young woman stood in her doorway.

"Professor Hughes? I'm sorry to bother you, but I just finished my paper. Is it alright if I turn it in late?"

Molly forced herself to smile. "Okay, Katie, I'll take it."

Katie let out a big sigh of relief and started digging through her backpack. "Great! I was so worried! I worked so hard on it but I've been so busy with my other classes and we're all really sorry about what happened to you and we're glad you're back now and Professor Calvert did okay teaching us but it's not the same as having you there and here you go!"

Molly took the crumpled paper. "Thanks, Katie."

Katie shot a glance at the cane leaning against Molly's desk. "So you're okay now, Professor?"

"I'm fine," Molly said firmly. "I'll see you in class on Monday. Could you please close the door on your way out?"

After Katie had reluctantly left, Molly stuffed the crumpled paper into the middle of the stack in front of her. A quick tattoo sounded on her door, and she jumped again. "Yeah?" she said shortly.

A blonde head peered around the door. "Am I coming at a bad time?"

"Oh, hi Jen. I'm actually trying to catch up on some work. Everything's really piled up."

"What are you doing to that poor kid's paper?"

Molly's eyes followed Jen's down to the desktop. Red ink dripped off the wounded paper on top of the stack. She shrugged. "They're not teaching kids anything in high school these days."

"Looks like you could use a break. Let's go get some coffee."

Molly shook her head. "Thanks, Jen, but I can't. I missed almost two weeks of classes and I've got two assignments to grade and the reading to do for next week."

"Molly! Would you listen to yourself? You were kidnapped for Pete's sake. Some psychopath nearly killed you. Nobody's expecting you to keep up with your damn syllabus!"

"You don't understand, Jen. Nothing that bad happened. I lost a couple of unnecessary pieces of flesh and a few days' time."

Jen just stood there, mouth hanging open.

"Really. I'm fine," Molly said. "I was feeling sorry for myself for a while there, but when I found out what happened to those other women I realized how ridiculous I was being. I got off easy."

"Easy."

"Yes, easy. You should have seen what those other women looked like when he was done with them."

"What are you talking about? When did you see the other women?"

"I saw pictures down at the detectives' room, when I went to give my statement."

"They showed you pictures?"

"Well, no, it was an accident. But that Lieutenant Flynn told me I needed to know the truth. He introduced me to one of the women's husbands, too."

"Sounds like a lovely guy. Is he the one who told you to pretend nothing has happened, to act like this psycho isn't still out on the streets?"

"No, not exactly. But he wasn't there with M-Mackie. I spent days with the guy and we talked a lot. I know I was getting through to him. He's not going to try to hurt me again."

Jen crossed her arms. "Really? Is that why you're jumping at every shadow?"

"I'm not jumping-"

"And biting everyone's heads off?"

Molly crossed her own arms and pouted.

"Look, Molly, I know you hate it when I meddle, but I'm really worried about you. Is there any way you can get a leave of absence and just get out of town for a while?"

Molly was shaking her head. "No way. I'm not letting that jerk drive me out of town." She forced herself to keep her voice lowered. "Look, Jen, I appreciate your concern, but all I really need right now is to get back to work. Can you just let me do that?"

Jen sighed. "Okay. Will you at least call me if you need anything?"

"Will do," Molly said. She already had the red pen in her hand, and as soon as the door had closed behind Jen, she started scribbling on the illiterate kid's paper again.

Two hours later, right hand aching from gripping the pen, left hand aching from fading Percocet, she finally decided she was caught up enough to head home. She piled the rest of the papers into her big, flowered totebag, watered her office plants, and headed to the faculty lot. She was getting used to the walking cast, and as she hobbled along her mind wandered to Jen. God, she could be exasperating! She had always been a meddler, setting up blind dates and trying to get Molly to socialize more. This time she was genuinely worried, though, and Molly felt a little bad for cutting her off. The truth was that the Lieutenant had also suggested leaving town or at least getting a bodyguard. He even had names he could suggest, retired cops who did some private security work. Her response to him had been even ruder than her response to Jen.

As she reached for the driver's side handle of her little hatchback, her eyes caught the glint of something shiny on the steering wheel. She froze. Was that a scalpel blade glowing orange under the fluorescent lights of the parking lot? And another? What the hell? It looked like a necklace of them draped over the steering wheel. She heard a rustle in the bushes to her left and her paralysis broke. She turned quickly and scanned the lot. A group of kids was leaning against a sports car in the student section of the lot, talking loudly. She sighed with relief and walked toward them, pulling her phone out of her bag as she went. When she was close enough to them to feel safe, she dialed the number she hadn't even known she had memorized.

* * *

"Professor Hughes?"

"Lieutenant Flynn, I'm sorry to bother you on a Friday night."

"That's okay. What's up?"

"He's been here."

Flynn pulled into the breakdown lane and flipped his hazard lights on. "Where is he?"

"I don't know, but he broke into my car sometime this afternoon."

"How do you know?"

"There's medical stuff in my car, scalpels and stuff."

Flynn's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "Where are you now?"

"At the faculty lot off of 14th street."

"You're on campus?"

"Yeah, I am." She sounded defensive.

"Alright. Is that lot close to a taco place, Tito's or something like that?"

"Tico's, yeah, they're right across the street."

"Okay, go over there and stay put. I'll be there in ten minutes." Flynn pulled back onto the freeway. Thank God he had been heading to a Westside meeting tonight; the campus wasn't too far away. What on Earth had she been thinking going to work like nothing had happened, even parking in the same damn lot from which she'd been abducted before? Was she trying to get herself hurt? And where the hell were the uniforms he had talked to about keeping a close eye on her apartment? They were due for a good chewing out.

When he walked into the crowded restaurant, he spotted her right away. She was sitting in a booth, reading a book, a neglected plate of nachos on the table in front of her. She glanced up as he slid into the seat across from her.

"You okay?" he asked.

She nodded. "You got here fast."

"I was close."

"I'm sorry I bothered you. I should have just called in a report in the morning. It's not like he was waiting for me in that parking lot. I guess I just panicked."

Flynn counted to ten before he felt able to open his mouth. "Molly. Here's what's going to happen. SID is on their way over. They're going to go over every inch of that car. While I go get them started, you are going to sit here and eat your dinner. When I come back I'll take you to a safehouse where you will stay until we find Mackie." He held up his hand. "No. No argument. Order me one of those vegetarian burritos and I'll be back in a few minutes." He grabbed her car keys off the table and left before she could say anything.

The SID van was just pulling into the lot when he got there. The Chief's car pulled in behind them. Flynn unlocked Molly's car and let the tech open the driver's side door. They all stood for a moment and looked at Mackie's handiwork. Dozens of scalpel blades strung on what appeared to be medical gauze, draped like a deranged Christmas garland over the steering wheel and down to the gear shift lever.

"Be careful, gentlemen," the Chief said. "He may have left us some surprises."

Flynn pulled out his flashlight and lay down on the asphalt to inspect the underside of the car. No suspicious wires or batteries. This lot was busy during weekdays, fortunately. He probably hadn't had time to do more than decorate the interior. "Check the ignition switch before you turn it on," he said to Gary, the young tech who had joined SID last month. Gary nodded seriously at him.

"Lieutenant, where's the Professor?" the Chief asked.

"Over at that restaurant, Chief. I'd like to get her out of here."

"See if you can get her a safehouse, please, Lieutenant."

"Already taken care of, Chief. I called on my way over and they've got a place available tomorrow. I'll take her to my house tonight."

"Are you sure, Lieutenant? She can stay with Fritz and me."

"No problem, Chief. I've got plenty of room. Plus, she already hates me so there's nothing to lose."

Brenda grinned. "Thank you, Lieutenant. I'll let you know what we find out about the car."


	12. Chapter 12

Molly slouched down in the seat, arms crossed tightly. Why was everyone being so difficult? Two weeks ago she had been in complete control of her life, enjoying her only occasionally stressful job, retreating to her cozy apartment in the evenings, getting together with friends on the weekends. The routine would be boring to some, but to her the predictability was comforting. Now she found herself in a stranger's car, being driven away from her home and her job, with no idea what the future held.

She was especially mad at Lieutenant Flynn. He was on the phone right now, yelling at some poor cops about how they had been told to keep an eye on her apartment. What business did he have putting surveillance on her without even telling her? Brenda had said a patrol would drive by now and then, but this sounded a lot more elaborate.

Flynn hit the "end call" button on his dashboard screen. "Idiots," he said.

"I told you I didn't want protection."

"Yeah, and you see where that got you."

Molly felt her cheeks grow hot. She had to admit she'd been caught off guard today. She never thought Mackie would be cruel enough or stupid enough to make a move like that. What kind of a sick person was he? How could he have seemed so average as a student ten years ago, so coherent in conversation last week, when underneath he was filled with something she couldn't even comprehend?

The Lieutenant turned onto a quiet residential street lined with modest bungalows. He reached up to his visor and a garage door went up on the next house, a tidy little ranch. When he pulled into the garage, she saw a red tool cabinet and a peg board covered with a variety of hand tools.

"This isn't the safehouse," she said.

"No, actually, this is my house. The official safehouse won't be available till tomorrow, and this is more secure than a hotel."

Molly watched him gather his phone and slide out of the car. Finally she shrugged her shoulders and followed him to the kitchen door. He seemed to think this was a perfectly normal state of affairs, and she was darned if she was going to be the first to say anything about it.

When she walked into the kitchen, a big red pile of fur launched itself at her chest and started licking her face.

"Down, Nessa!" Flynn said. "Sorry about that."

Molly laughed and stroked the dog's silky head. "No problem. I love Irish Setters." When the dog had finished exploring her and wandered toward her food bowl, Molly glanced around. The kitchen was not what she had been expecting from Flynn's sartorial choices. Neither was his car, for that matter. Both felt working class comfortable, well lived in and unpretentious. Actually, Flynn's clothes this evening were nothing like his usual gorgeous suits. He was shrugging off his baseball jacket and hanging it up on a hook behind the door.

He ran his hand through his hair. "You want something to drink?"

"Do you have tea?"

"Tons. Take your pick." He opened a cabinet door and turned to grab the kettle off of the stove.

Molly browsed through the boxes, finally settling on chamomile.

"Grab me an Irish Breakfast, if you don't mind."

"At this hour? You'll never get to sleep."

"That's the idea."

She turned around, tea packets in her hand. Flynn was leaning back against the counter, arms folded, dark eyes on her. Molly just shook her head at him. "You're that worried?"

Flynn smiled slightly. "No, I'm not especially worried, but I don't make a habit of taking people into protective custody and then dozing off. Kinda defeats the purpose."

"Do you have to do this very often?"

Flynn shrugged. "A few times a year. Often enough that I keep a spare toothbrush in the guest bathroom." He reached out for the teakettle just before it started whistling.

For the first time all evening, Molly felt her stomach unclench. The dog plodded over and leaned against her hip. Molly listened to the water pouring into the cups as she scratched behind the dog's soft, warm ears.

* * *

Flynn put down his book as he heard a car's engine cut off. Nessa, curled up at his feet, was staring at the front window. "Stay," he said quietly as he kicked off the blanket and padded to the dark dining room. He pushed the curtain slightly aside and watched the unfamiliar figure walking around the late model sedan parked in front of the Serranos'. White guy, thin, medium height. Flynn's hand settled on his holstered gun. The guy opened the passenger door and held out his hand. A young woman emerged. Becky Serrano, dressed to the nines. Flynn snorted and dropped the curtain.

Nessa's wet nose pushed up under his hand. "You don't follow orders worth a damn," he whispered to her as he obediently petted her head. He turned and headed toward the kitchen. Time to switch to coffee. He was getting too old for this. He remembered Becky drawing hopscotch squares and flowers all over his sidewalk, and now she was coming home from a date at an hour when he could hardly keep his eyes open.

He pulled out the jar of instant coffee so he wouldn't have to run the grinder. Two mugs sat on the edge of the sink, and he grabbed his and rinsed it out. While he waited for the water to heat, he munched idly on some popcorn kernels that were still sitting in the big ceramic bowl. His guest seemed to like popcorn as much as he did, and they'd gone through two bowls of it while they watched the Dodgers get creamed by the Cardinals. She had thrown popcorn at the TV when Billingsley got an exceptionally unfair call. Nessa had been happy about that.

He stirred his coffee and took a sip. Ick. He reached for the sugar bowl. His hand froze as he heard a whimper. He looked over at Nessa. She was staring down the hallway toward the bedrooms, ears up. He set his mug down and followed her to the guest room. The door was cracked open, and he paused outside. A faint moaning emerged from the room. "No….no…" In the dim glow of the nightlight he could see Molly moving restlessly in her sleep. His shoulders relaxed and he pushed the door open.

"Molly?" he said quietly. "Wake up." He walked to the bed and awkwardly poked her on the shoulder.

He jumped as she suddenly sat straight upright. "No!" she yelled. Then her face crumpled and she buried it in her hands.

Flynn sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her to his chest. "Hey, hey," he said. "It was just a dream."

"It was him," she said through her tears. "He was cutting me again."

Flynn just rubbed her back in big, meaningless circles. Finally he heard her sobs subside, and he reached for the Kleenex box on the nightstand. She took a couple and blew her nose.

"God, I'm sorry," she said. She was looking down at the wadded up tissues in her hand.

He gave a quick pat to the blanket over her legs and stood up. "Forget about it," he said. "I'm going to see if there's anything on TV. You wanna join me?"

She nodded, eyes still downcast, and swung out of the bed. She was wearing the big, old T-shirt he had given her earlier, but her legs were bare. Flynn quickly averted his eyes and made a beeline for the door. "I'll make some more popcorn," he said and closed the door behind him.

He was scrolling through the TV Guide channel when she walked in, wearing his navy blue robe over the gray T-shirt. It covered her from head to toe, but didn't really help with his problem. And he just had to be wearing sweatpants, too. He crossed his legs and focused on the sparse TV offerings. Turner Classics always had something good on in the early morning hours. The offering today was _It Happened One Night._

Flynn cursed silently to himself and kept scrolling.


	13. Chapter 13

Molly woke to a wet kiss on her cheek. "Cut it out, Bandit," she said grumpily and pushed the dog away.

"Bandit?"

Molly opened her eyes. She was curled up on a couch, a fuzzy cream-colored blanket over her. A red-haired dog sat in front of her, thumping its tail hopefully on the floor. Molly glanced over in the direction of the voice and saw the tall Lieutenant standing in the doorway with a steaming cup in his hand. He was still in his Rutgers T-shirt and navy blue sweats. His hair stood up like a silver brush.

She looked back at the dog. "Sorry, Nessa. That was my dog when I was a kid." She rubbed her eyes and tried to remember how she ended up on the couch. Flynn had been watching infomercials for some reason, and they had quickly put her to sleep. Maybe that was the point.

He set the coffee down on the coffee table. "I take it you're not a morning person, either," he said.

Molly shook her head and sat up with a yawn. "Hate 'em," she said. She mumbled a thanks as she reached for the coffee.

Flynn opened the front window drapes, letting in a flood of sunlight. "I'm gonna take a quick shower," he said. "There's cereal in the kitchen." He retreated down the hallway. "Don't answer the phone or the door," he called back over his shoulder.

Molly took a sip of the nearly black coffee and tried to wake up. She ran her hands over the soft terry cloth of the robe she was wearing. It smelled like the Lieutenant's aftershave – something with a spicy bite. She needed her own clothes.

She was dressed and had the blanket folded by the time Flynn emerged from his bedroom. He was wearing a full three-piece suit in a rich, heathered charcoal. His eyebrows raised at her. "You're up," he said.

She felt self-conscious in her frumpy cardigan and jeans from yesterday. "You said we could stop by my place this morning. I really need to get some things."

He nodded. "Ok. I'll be ready in a minute."

Molly gathered her totebag from the bedroom and quickly smoothed the covers on the bed. She petted Nessa good-bye on the way out to the garage. Flynn unlocked the car and stashed a small box under his seat.

The drive to her apartment building was short and quiet. The morning sun shone brightly on the green lawns of the neighborhood around campus, but her building still looked cold and desolate. She didn't even know any of her neighbors. That used to seem like an advantage.

Flynn parked and she reached for her door lock. "I'll just be a few minutes," she said.

"Whoa. Wait a minute there." His hand was on her arm. She turned to look at him.

"SID cleared your place last night, but I need to make sure it's still clear before you go barreling in."

Molly sighed and sank back in her seat. She muttered a very foul word.

Flynn gave her arm a brief squeeze. "You can follow me up. Just stay behind and give me a few minutes to check things out."

Molly nodded meekly and followed him to the building. He was walking quickly and decisively, back as straight as an arrow; she did her best to keep up on her cast, but she was out of breath by the time they got to the top of the stairs. "Hang back a little," he said as they approached her door.

There were strips of green tape over the doorjamb at several places. Flynn ran his fingers over them. "Okay," he said finally. He pulled out his car key and used it to cut through the tape. "I need your key."

She fished it out of her pocket and handed it to him. He opened the door and pushed it open sharply. Whack! Molly jumped. He grabbed her arm and pulled her in, then shut the door behind her. "Stay here," he ordered. His right hand was on the butt of his gun as he walked quietly into her livingroom. He went to the first window and ran his hand over the edges. She saw the same green tape there. She lost sight of him as he moved to the next window. She swallowed past a lump in her throat. Her stomach was all clenched again, and she felt queasy as her eyes wandered over the mess in the livingroom.

Finally he declared the apartment safe and she retreated to the bedroom, keeping her eyes averted from the papers and books all over the livingroom floor. Unfortunately, the bedroom was even worse. All her clothes were off their hangers or spilling out of drawers. She resisted the urge to stamp her feet and start yelling. It wasn't Flynn's fault. Besides, they were doing this to protect her. "Thanks a lot, guys," she muttered as she pulled her suitcase out of the closet and started stuffing wrinkled clothes into it.

When they finally got to the safehouse on the other side of town, Molly was worn out. All she wanted was a shower and a long nap. Flynn followed her into the dark apartment. A musty smell permeated the avocado green shag carpet, but the place looked neat enough.

Flynn set the small box down on the kitchen table. "He'll be here soon," he said.

She nodded. She had heard him talking to someone on the phone about sending an officer out. She put her small bag of groceries in the fridge.

"Uh, Molly, there's something I want to talk to you about."

She turned from the fridge. "Yeah?"

"I brought you my old revolver. I think you should hang onto it."

Molly felt her jaw come unhinged. He was lifting the lid on the box. A gleam of steel shone from inside. "It's not heavy," he said. "You shouldn't have any trouble handling it. A friend of mine in the Sherriff's office wrote up an emergency permit so you can carry it."

Molly finally found her voice. "No."

He looked up at her. "What?"

"Are you crazy? I've never touched a gun in my life. I don't believe in them."

"What do you mean you don't believe in them? It's sitting right here; it's not a hallucination."

"I mean I don't believe in shooting people, or animals either, for that matter."

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! You're telling me that if you came across a hungry mountain lion you wouldn't blow it away?"

"It's my fault for invading its territory. That's why I don't go hiking around the canyons."

Flynn rubbed his forehead and muttered something about academics. He looked up sharply as a knock sounded. "Just me, Sergeant Kelsoe," a deep voice called. Flynn closed the box and went to the door. He returned with a young, dark-haired man who was wasting his time as a cop. He should have been an actor or a model. He gave Molly a devastating grin and shook her hand.

Flynn left soon after, box tucked under his arm.


	14. Chapter 14

Molly stumbled out of the bedroom, desperate for some coffee. She stopped with a squeak when she saw the woman on the floor in front of the couch. The woman raised her head and grinned at her. "Hi, let me just finish these last few push-ups."

"Um. Okay." Molly shook her head and continued to the kitchen. Before she had even scooped the instant coffee into her cup, the tall woman bounded up and came over, hand extended.

"I'm Detective Mendoza. You can call me Mikki. Sorry if I startled you. You were already asleep when I relieved Kelsoe last night."

Molly extracted her hand from the enthusiastic grip. "That's alright. Thanks for taking the night shift."

"No problem. I always volunteer for the night shift."

"You want some coffee?"

"No thanks. Gotta finish my work-out." She bounced back to the livingroom, long ponytail swinging.

Molly leaned against the counter and rubbed her bandaged hand over her soft belly while she sipped her coffee. Her eyes fell on the badge and gun lying on the opposite counter. The police guns were larger and meaner than the revolver Lieutenant Flynn had showed her yesterday. Solid black and chunky. She stepped forward and reached out a tentative finger. A phone rang, and she quickly pulled her finger back.

Detective Mendoza's vigorous panting had stopped. "Mendoza," she said.

After a short, indecipherable conversation, the detective came back into the kitchen. "That was Andy. He says he'll be by in an hour. There's someplace he needs to take you." Mikki paused and laughed. "He's not that bad, is he?"

Molly smiled. "No, it's not that. I'm just tired. And my usual Sunday routine is to read the paper in bed and eat a big stack of pancakes."

"Did you sleep alright? I thought I heard some, uh, tossing and turning."

Molly waved her off. "I'm fine. I just need a shower." She picked up her coffee and trudged to the bedroom.

She was sitting on the end of the bed lacing her sneakers when she heard the knock on the front door. He was early, which meant no time for breakfast. Oh well, it wouldn't hurt her to skip a meal or two. She had heard Mikki do an astounding fifty sit-ups before launching into something that sounded like kickboxing. Molly felt tired just listening to her. She slipped into her hoodie and shot a disparaging glance at the cane leaning against the dresser. Getting to take the cast off yesterday had been such a happy moment. Why ruin it by lugging around that hideous thing? But the doctor had insisted that she protect her foot until it was fully healed. Molly sighed and grabbed it on her way out.

When they were settled in Flynn's rattly car, she asked him where they were going.

"We've got several things to do," he said vaguely.

Molly rolled her eyes. The Lieutenant seemed to be in a somewhat better mood today, but he was still treating her like an annoying ward he resented being responsible for. She was the one whose life had been upended. The least he could do….well, never mind. In no time they'd find Mackie and she wouldn't have to talk to any of them again.

Flynn pulled into a parking spot in front of a big restaurant with a blue roof and faux-tudor décor.

"What's this?" Molly asked.

Flynn shrugged. "I heard you like pancakes."

Molly swallowed past a sudden lump and turned away to open her door. That Mikki!

When they were comfily ensconced in a booth, a carafe of coffee and two stacks of pancakes between them, she asked again what the plan for the day was.

Flynn swallowed his forkful of blueberry pancakes. "You're still insisting on going back to class tomorrow?"

"I have to. I've missed two weeks."

"Okay, don't get so defensive. I just think it would be a good idea for me to see your office and the classroom so I know the lay of the land before tomorrow."

"You're going to go to my classes?"

"Of course I'm-!" Flynn stopped. "I mean, yes, I'm sorry but I need to accompany you tomorrow. Your class schedule is online. Anyone could find it."

Molly looked at the array of whipped cream-bedecked food in front of her, sparkling in the morning sun. Then she looked up at the Lieutenant, in his crisply ironed camp shirt. He was freshly shaven but still had lines of fatigue around his eyes.

"I understand," she finally said. "Thank you for everything you're doing."

His jaw unclenched and he gave her a boyishly crooked grin. "My pleasure," he said. "I haven't had pancakes in ages." He stuck another giant forkful in his mouth.

* * *

Actually, Flynn thought to himself, that had gone better than expected. He pulled out of the half-full parking lot behind her office building. The campus was fairly small, and her classes were close to her office. Even with Monday crowds, it would be difficult for Mackie to stalk her unnoticed. Three plain-clothes detectives circulating around this side of campus should be adequate.

He could hardly believe she hadn't yelled at him yet. Maybe she was adjusting. Or maybe she was just glad to be getting back to work tomorrow. He could see she wasn't happy about having a cop traipsing around her office, but she hadn't objected. He couldn't see any signs of forced entry. Not that that meant anything. Colleges always had crap security. No surprises awaited them inside, though who knew what might be hidden in all those books. Geez, he had thought she had a lot of books at her apartment. There wasn't time to do a full search of her office, but his instincts told him Mackie wouldn't have broken in here. The library was next door and students walked by this building 24/7.

His phone rang. Gabriel. He put in his ear piece before answering.

"Flynn."

"Hi Lieutenant. The Chief wanted me to update you on Mackie's background."

"What have you got?"

"Well, we think we know where he got his medical supplies. You were right. He spent a year in Ecuador working in an off-the-books medical clinic there. That's probably where he got his training and picked up his supplies."

"Do they have any information?"

"No, we haven't been able to get anyone down there to talk to us yet. We do, however, think we've identified his first victim."

"His first?"

"Yeah, his mother. She apparently had diabetes for at least ten years. She managed it pretty well, but did have to have a toe amputated at one point."

"Really."

"Yeah. And get this: she ended up getting lymphoma a few years ago. She had part of her liver removed and then her kidneys started failing. Mr. Mackie's friends say that's when he started getting strange and fell out of touch with them."

"When did she go?"

"That's the thing. There's no death certificate. Her doctors transferred her to hospice at the end, but there's no record of her ever being in a hospice facility and no record of her death. She just disappeared."

"What? Wasn't there a missing persons report at least?"

"Nope. Her doctors assumed she was in hospice and everyone else thought she had died."

"Alright. Keep me updated."

After he hung up, he glanced over at Molly. She was still reading the papers she had picked up from her office, or at least pretending to read them. He was still debating how much to tell her. The car yesterday and now Gabriel's information were clarifying his mental picture of Mackie, and the picture was becoming increasingly disturbing. This was one sick dude, and he was not likely to stop now. Flynn decided to go ahead with the third errand he had tentatively planned. He took a right on Hillside and geared himself up for an unpleasant afternoon.

After he had parked the car, it took a few moments for his passenger to connect the dots. The giant bullseye on the sign helped.

"You son of a-"

"What? Because I want to see you stay alive?"

"You know how I feel about this. I'm not going to go hang out with a bunch of survivalist whackos and shoot at paper silhouettes!"

"Dammit, Molly, you know we can't provide a hundred percent protection. That guy is out there and he's still after you."

"Stop treating me like a victim!"

"Then stop acting like one!"

She was facing him, breathing hard, eyes snapping with anger. Then her face closed like a door slamming and she sat back in her seat, arms folded. "I'm not getting out of this car."

She sounded like his five-year old niece. Flynn reluctantly reached into his breast pocket. "Molly, I want you to look at these." He started holding the pictures up in her face, one after another. The last one was the worst. "That's what we found in a cooler behind your passenger seat. In case you can't tell what they are, they're organs. Kidneys, livers, lungs, hearts from dozens of cats and dogs and other-"

She suddenly fumbled for her door handle and leaned out over the asphalt. Flynn gritted his teeth and waited, not letting himself even pat her on the shoulder. Now was not the time for that. When she was done he handed her a napkin from the glove box. The pictures were back in his pocket.

She wiped her mouth and childishly dried her eyes on the sleeves of her hoodie. "You win," she said quietly.

"I knew you could do it," he said. He reached for the small box under his seat.


	15. Chapter 15

When the alarm buzzed, Molly hit the snooze button. A minute later there was a knock on her door.

"Don't go back to sleep," Mikki called through the door.

Molly grunted irritably, but managed to pull herself upright. She smiled as she stretched. First good night's sleep in ages. That talk with Mikki had done wonders for her spirits. It had started with a tentative question from Molly about Mikki's gun. It turned out Mikki had also grown up in a gun-free house, but her drive to become a detective pushed her to master a variety of weapons and combat techniques once she entered the academy. She didn't want to end up at a desk or writing up parking tickets.

"The first time I shot someone, I had bad dreams for weeks," she had said.

"The first time?"

"Oh, yeah, I've had to discharge my weapon several times. FID loves me." She saw Molly's confused look and explained about FID. "Captain Raydor investigates officer-involved shootings and I've given her plenty to do. She even added me to her Christmas card list last year."

Mikki showed her the police gun and explained how it was different from the revolver Molly had reluctantly held onto after the trip to the shooting range that afternoon.

"Basically, they're just tools," Mikki said. "In an ideal world nobody would need to carry anything except maybe a rifle out in the woods, but this isn't an ideal world."

Molly found it easier to admit her fears to Mikki, who seemed less dismissive of them than Flynn was. She even talked about her bad dreams.

"I thought I heard something last night," Mikki said. "Your dreams seem perfectly normal."

"Normal? To dream about blowing away my students? I don't see how I can even go on in my career if I'm having dreams like that."

"I'm sure they'll stop after a while. You've received quite a shock, you know – not just the violence, but having it come from a former student who seemed normal. You're probably wondering if you can trust anyone."

"Exactly. I find myself looking suspiciously at everyone, wondering about bulges under jackets and every shifty eye movement."

"A lot of cops go through that, too, at first. You might have grown up with no exposure to criminals, and now they're suddenly everywhere, some of them really good liars. Pretty soon you think everyone's lying and trying to get away with something."

"How do you get over that?"

""Well, some never do, but over time you hopefully start to trust yourself more. You know you can take care of yourself. You learn to trust your fellow officers. And you get an instinct for who's dangerous and who's decent."

Molly had realized at that point how incredibly lucky she was. She'd never even had to worry about whom to trust in her life. Partly that was because she kept her social circle very small and mostly shut herself off from the world. But she also knew she'd been lucky not to have run into anyone even moderately abusive in her forty years of life.

Well, if it was time to grow up, she could start today. She owed apologies to at least two people, starting with the Lieutenant. She had gone through with the morbid exercise yesterday and actually found it sort of fun, but they had parted very stiffly afterwards. And then there was Jen, whom she had only called briefly to explain about the safehouse. Her old friend deserved better.

She got a chance to drop by Jen's office after her first morning class.

"You look nice," Jen said coolly. She had remained sitting behind her desk.

Molly shrugged. "I've got a meeting later on. I wanted to stop by and introduce you to Lieutenant Flynn." She waved the Lieutenant in and watched him shake hands with Jen. Jen gave the handsome Lieutenant a brilliant smile.

"You're keeping an eye on her?" Jen asked.

"Yes, ma'am. I'll just wait outside while you two talk." He shut the door behind himself on his way out.

Jen turned her smile to Molly. "Wow," she said. "Now I know why you're dressed up."

Molly blushed. "No, I've got a meeting with the provost. I swear. Besides, I'm celebrating getting that stupid cast off."

Jen looked down at her feet. "Well, I'm not sure sneakers work with that outfit, but they are more stylish than a cast."

Molly laughed. "They're the only shoes that will fit over the bandage." She paused. "Jen, I'm so sorry about how I've been this last week. You were right about everything. I just didn't want to accept it."

Jen came around the desk and gave her a big hug. "No need to apologize," she murmured. "Just promise me you'll keep that Lieutenant close by."

"Well, it'll be a sacrifice, but I guess I can manage that," Molly said with an exaggerated sigh. They both laughed.

* * *

Flynn checked his watch. The twenty minute meeting was stretching on to twenty-five. He glanced around the reception area outside the Agnes B. and Houston L. Chesterton Memorial Conference Room. The oak bookcases and plush carpeting suited the name. It should have been Gabriel here. With his graduate degree from USC, he would have felt right at home.

Actually, though, the day had been fairly enjoyable. College campuses were always hopping, and he felt nostalgic for the days when he had chased co-eds and pulled off outrageous pranks. The days when binge drinking was just a normal weekend activity, easily contained. He had felt like he had the world by the tail.

He had never been a stellar student, but he had enjoyed a lot of his classes. He would have liked having Molly as a professor. Standing in front of all those students, she seemed so comfortable and confident. Nothing like the nervous kid he had dragged to the shooting range yesterday. She lectured with no notes, pulling the students along on a thought experiment that started with the Matrix and ended with Descartes. He had meant to look over his case notes during her classes, but instead found himself listening attentively to her lecture and the subsequent discussion. The students pressed her hard, and she encouraged it. By the end of class they were all heatedly debating whether the external world existed at all. It was fascinating. Utterly useless, but fascinating.

Still, he needed to give further thought to the case. Something wasn't sitting right. They'd heard nothing from Mackie since he had decorated Molly's car. That act was a promissory note, not a settling of accounts. And if Mackie was anything, he was determined. He planned things out and he carried out his plans. They had disrupted his plans, so what would he do next? If he couldn't target Molly, who would he go after instead? Someone else who had undermined his career? Given the way he projected his failures onto others, that could be anyone.

There was also the question of why he hadn't just killed the women he blamed. Why document it all, and why send the videos to Major Crimes? Did he have some connection to them? Some need to talk to them in particular? If so, he wasn't likely to stop trying to talk to them. Flynn felt uneasy.

He was considering calling the Chief with his vague worries when he felt his phone vibrate. Provenza.

"Problem, Flynn," Provenza said, his voice tight.

"What is it?" Flynn saw the secretary frown at him, and he went out into the hallway. "Wait, Provenza. Repeat that. What about Tao?"

"He's been shot, I said! Right in the back."

"Is he dead?"

"No, but it's touch and go. He's at Cedars."

"Jesus," Flynn said. "How'd it happen?"

"It was during his walk from the office to his parking spot. He was on Center Street. Nobody saw the shooter."

"What caliber?"

Provenza snorted. "That's the weird thing. It wasn't a bullet. It was a bolt. From a crossbow."

"Have you looked at it yet?"

"No! He just got shot 10 minutes ago. We don't even have the evidence down here yet."

"Well when you get it, dismantle the thing. Carefully. There may be a message inside."

"You think this is Mackie?"

"Of course it's Mackie! I just wish I had seen it sooner. When he couldn't get Molly, he came after us, and he went after the person on the squad with the most medical training."

"I have no idea how you jumped to that conclusion, but I don't have time to deal with it now. SID's bringing the stuff in."

"Okay, I'll be at the hospital as soon as I can."

Flynn hung up and strode back into the reception room. He dropped his phone when he tried to slide it into his coat pocket. It landed on the plush carpet with hardly a sound. As he was straightening up, the conference room door opened and a small group of people emerged, exchanging farewells. Molly walked quickly over to Flynn.

"What's wrong?" she asked.

He pulled her out to the hallway and waited for the others to leave. "It's Tao. He's been shot. I need to go to the hospital."

Molly's eyes widened. "He's the one I met last week?"

Flynn nodded.

She slung her totebag on her shoulder. "Let's go."

Flynn tried to stay focused while they walked to the parking lot. Just because Mackie had been near the administrative building twenty minutes ago didn't mean he couldn't be here now.

When they got to the car, she said, "I'll drive."

"No, I'm fine."

"You're shaking."

"I'm just pissed," he said as he opened the passenger door for her. Thankfully, she didn't argue. He slammed his own door and jammed the key into the ignition. When he put his hand on the gear shift, her own closed over it.

"Stop for a second, okay?" she said.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I should have seen it," he said, eyes still closed.

She squeezed his hand. "Should have seen what?"

"Mackie's next move. It was so obvious! If I was just a little smarter or better at profiling." He pulled his hand out from under hers and pounded the steering wheel with his fist.

"Andy," she said quietly. "I'd be dead if it weren't for you. If _I_ were a little smarter I could have sent way more coherent and useful messages to your squad, but you figured it out anyway."

He looked at her. There were tears in the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. "Come on," she said with a small smile. "Let's go see how your friend's doing."


	16. Chapter 16

Molly sat on the stiff, floral upholstery of the cheap sofa in the waiting area and tried to think of something to say to the young man seated next to her. His name was Kevin and his father was undergoing emergency surgery. He looked remarkably calm, but his hands fidgeted endlessly with his phone. She finally commented on his USC sweatshirt, and that got them on the topic of SAT prep and college admissions, to Molly's great relief. The boy's mother was filling out a stack of paperwork at the admissions desk, and the detectives were all conferring in the hallway. It looked like it was going to be a long evening.

She was halfway through her speech on the pros and cons of research versus teaching schools when she saw Flynn waving her over. She excused herself from her captive audience.

"Professor Hughes," Chief Johnson said, "We want to ask you some more questions about Stuart Mackie."

"Sure, but I haven't remembered anything new since I gave my statement."

"That's alright. I just want to ask you about the time he was telling you about the videos he was shooting. You said he told you where he was sending them?"

"Yes, he said he was sending them to the police, but I didn't really believe him."

"Did he mention Major Crimes specifically?"

"Mmm…I don't think so. The first time, when he was getting the camera set up, he made me brush my hair. And he said something like 'You need to look right. This is going to the police, you know.' He made me practice reading the script, which was good because I figured out how to send a message just in case he really was going to send the video."

"What about the second video?" Brenda asked.

I wasn't in such great shape then, it's hard to remember."

"Try," Flynn said. His voice was urgent.

Molly closed her eyes and brought the smells and sounds of that despised room back. "He was excited, talking to himself," she said slowly. "He checked the bandage on my toe…"

"_Beautiful!" he said. "My best yet!" He poked the stitches and Molly yelped. "Don't worry," he said in a soothing voice. "You're healing nicely, and your toe is in good hands. __**Elite**__ hands. They'll be impressed." He hummed happily to himself while he replaced the bandage._

"That's all he said?" Brenda asked.

"I don't know. I can't remember after that."

"Nothing about Major Crimes, then," Brenda mused.

"I don't know, Chief," Flynn said. "That Ramos guy described us as an elite unit several times. Maybe Mackie learned about us from those stories."

"There's no harm in taking precautions," Gabriel said. "You should probably have some protection, Chief. You're the one he'd go after next."

"Fritz is going to meet me here soon. We'll be fine," Brenda said. "But I think Lieutenant Flynn is a more likely target. He's the one who's been escorting Professor Hughes around. Mackie doesn't like obstacles."

"The safehouse has a second bedroom," Flynn said. "I can stay there."

"Alright," Brenda said. She looked past him as a door opened down the hallway. A woman in a white coat walked briskly toward them. She looked tired. She went straight past them to Kate at the counter. The small group followed so they could hear the verdict.

"He made it through the surgery, but it's too early to tell," the doctor said. "His liver is badly damaged and we had to remove his spleen." Kate covered her eyes and Gabriel moved to put an arm around her. Kevin joined them a moment later. The Chief's phone rang. While she walked off to answer it, Molly snuck a glance at Flynn. He was leaning against the counter, forehead in his hands. She wished she could find a way to comfort these people, but she was a stranger. She wandered back to the waiting area and sat down.

Since there was nothing more they could do for Tao, the group split up soon after. The Chief headed home with her husband. Gabriel took Tao's family to the cafeteria. Flynn took Molly back to his car.

"I'm sorry about Lieutenant Tao," she said tentatively.

"Thanks," he said shortly.

She left him to his thoughts until he got onto the 405. "Where are we going?"

"Oh. Sorry. I need to stop at my house and get Nessa. Do you mind if she stays at the safehouse tonight?"

"No, of course not."

Flynn turned on an oldies station. "You hungry?" he said.

"No. If you want to stop, though, go ahead."

"No. I can't eat right now."

"Um, Lieutenant, I know I don't know you and the squad very well, but if you want to talk, I'll listen." Molly winced internally even as the corny words were coming out of her mouth.

Flynn shrugged. "What's the point? We're cops. We know what the job involves. Dwelling on it isn't gonna help us find this asshole." His knuckles were white on the steering wheel.

"Why do you think he targeted Lieutenant Tao?"

"Well, that's the interesting thing." Flynn turned down the radio. "Tao is the only one on the squad with medical training. My guess is that Mackie knows that. He's systematic, this guy. He probably researched us and thought we'd be more likely to recognize his surgical skills. When we didn't respond the way he wanted, he got mad. The message he sent today confirms that."

"What message?"

"They found a rolled up note inside the bolt he shot at Tao. It said, 'Pearls before swine. Good thing I like bacon!'" Flynn delivered the last line through gritted teeth.

Molly didn't know what to say. As they got closer to Flynn's neighborhood, she noticed him checking the rearview mirror more often. His whole body was rigid and alert. He wasn't an especially large man, but she didn't think she'd ever met anyone quite as tough as him. Battle-scarred, even. She blushed now to think that she had been trying to give him sympathy. As if he could possibly need anything from her.

He made her wait in the car while he collected what he needed from the house. When he came back to the garage, he had exchanged his beige suit for jeans and a baseball shirt, and he had a big dog bed and a bag of food in his arms. He prodded Nessa ahead of him with his toe. When Nessa saw Molly she barked a happy greeting and trotted to the passenger door.

"No, Nessa," Flynn said firmly. "Back seat." She jumped into the back seat and put her head over Molly's shoulder to give her a big kiss on the cheek before Flynn hooked her harness to the seat belt. He settled into his seat and backed the car out of the garage.

"I guess I'm hungry after all," he said suddenly. "You mind if we stop at a drive-in?"

"Sure."

He drove to West Hollywood and pulled into a funky 50's style drive-in that specialized in veggie burgers. When Molly saw the gigantic list of homemade shake flavors, her stomach growled. She ended up with avocado-mango. Flynn made a face when she ordered it. The carhop laughed and assured her it was a good choice.

As they sat sipping their drinks and passing fries back to Nessa, the tension in the car seemed to dissipate. Del Shannon was singing about his little runaway while the carhops glided between the cars on neon-colored roller skates. Flynn still seemed lost in his thoughts, but his jaw had unclenched.

"There's something I can't figure out," he said out of the blue.

"Mmmhmm?" Molly had just taken a bite of her Aloha burger.

Flynn was gazing emptily through the windshield. "What happened to his mother?"

"His mother?"

"Yeah, she disappeared a couple years ago. She has to be connected to this. She had a toe amputated because of diabetes. We know that from medical records. And then she got lymphoma and was transferred to hospice. But she never went to a hospice program. She just disappeared."

"You think he killed her?"

"It's the only thing that makes sense. Everyone who knew him says she abused him and he hated her. Maybe he killed her and now he feels so guilty about it that he's trying to make amends in some way."

"How does kidnapping and killing other people make amends?"

"I don't know." Flynn rubbed his forehead. "Usually when cases get this weird I just decide the guy is bonkers and stop trying to analyze him. But I keep remembering what you said during your statement. That Mackie talked to himself a lot, in all kinds of weird voices, and sometimes it sounded like he was talking to somebody else. What was it he said?"

"'You'll see. You'll see.' He kept saying that. Sometimes he would talk in this high-pitched voice and yell 'Save me! Save me!' or he'd say 'You're a loser! You'll never make it!' and then he would get mad and shout at himself to shut up."

"Remember when you were talking about the Matrix today? It made me think about Mackie. Maybe he's in his own Matrix where his mother is still alive, still abusing him."

"You think his actions are really directed at her? He's trying to prove something to her, not to you guys?"

"Yeah, I think so. That Descartes guy said 'I think, therefore I exist,' right? Well, for Mackie it's more like 'My mother believes in me, therefore I exist.' He hates her abuse but he can't live without it."

"How does it help to know that?" Molly asked.

"I have no idea," Flynn admitted. "It's philosophy – fascinating, but useless."

Molly laughed. "Go ahead and tell me what you really think, Andy."

Flynn grinned at her. "No offense. I mean, at least you're not a lawyer."

* * *

Flynn woke with a start. He had been dreaming about Christmas. His mother had handed him a giant box wrapped in silver foil, and when he opened it he saw it was full of dripping organs, each one wrapped in a bow. He sat up and rubbed his heartburn-laden chest. A faint glow of light outlined the curtains. Too early to wake up, but what the hell? Nessa had been sleeping with him, but she must be out bothering Mikki in the livingroom. He should give her a walk. The dog, not Mikki.

When he shuffled out to the livingroom, Mikki was alone on the couch, long legs stretched out in front of her and a crime novel in her hands.

"Geez," he mumbled as he passed her. "Don't you get enough of that at work?"

"There's somebody in here who's just like you," she said. "Smart mouth. Craggy face. He's one of the bad guys."

Flynn snorted and continued to the kitchen for his morning fix. He looked around. "Where's Nessa?" he asked.

"Oh, she insisted on going into Molly's room," Mikki called from the livingroom. Andy saw that Molly's door was closed, which was a good thing given how well Mikki's voice carried. It wasn't even 5:30 yet. He carried his coffee into the livingroom and banged on Mikki's feet till she let him sit on the lumpy couch. She promptly put her feet on his lap. He rubbed them absently while he drank his coffee. Not as good as a warm dog after a bad dream, but it helped.

The coffee wasn't sitting well on his acid stomach. Something felt wrong. He pushed Mikki's feet aside and got up to look out the window. The sun would be coming up soon. The whole sky glowed a rosy pink. He scanned the quiet street. Nothing out of place.

"I'm up," he said over his shoulder. "You can knock off early if you want."

She looked at her watch. "Well, there is a sunrise yoga class I'd like to get to."

He rolled his eyes. These kids on the force lately – they made him tired. He just hoped he wouldn't end up like Provenza, refusing even to run. The way his knees ached sometimes, he wondered if that was what his future looked like.

After Mikki bounced off, Flynn turned on the news. His heartburn flared at the sight of the lead story, and he switched quickly to BBC. Nice, soothing news from the Middle East. The reporter was detailing the latest diplomatic breakdown in an accent that added an automatic twenty IQ points to everything she said when Flynn's phone rang. The timing told him what it must be, but he didn't recognize the number on the screen. He listened to the caller tell him what he had been silently praying not to hear. The young officer was very sorry, but the Chief had asked him to notify everyone.

Flynn hung up and went to Molly's room. He didn't bother knocking; he just went straight in. She was an amorphous lump with the blankets pulled up past her chin. Nessa was stretched out next to her, taking up as much of the bed as possible. Flynn just stood there, longing to wedge himself in between them. Molly stirred and her head emerged from the pile of blankets. "Everything okay?" she mumbled.

Flynn shook his head.

Molly rubbed her eyes and sat up. She looked at him for a moment and didn't say a word. She just held out her arms. He collapsed onto the bed and buried himself in her warm arms. She smelled like soap and honey and sleep. "He's not going to make it," he choked out. She squeezed him tight and rocked him back and forth.

He lost track of time while he let out his anguish. After Provenza, Mike was his best friend on the squad. He never got political, never played ego games. He just followed the evidence. Whenever Flynn felt like he was getting too close to a case, too pulled off balance by his undisciplined emotions, he could talk to Tao and the world would right itself again.

He finally ran out of breath. Molly handed him a bundle of tissues. "I can go to the hospital with you, if you want," she said.

He blew his nose. "Actually," he said, "there's no choice about that. I sent Mikki home."

"Okay, just let me get dressed." She slid out from under the covers and straightened her fleecy pink pajamas.

He rose from the bed as well. "I'll walk Nessa." He looked down at the rumpled, sleepy woman standing in front of him. She reached out and he pulled her into his arms. They just held each other for another minute. "Thank you," he whispered into her ear before he finally let her go.


	17. Chapter 17

Someone was whispering her name, over and over. Her shoulder ached. And her head. And her back. "Leave me alone," she tried to say. Her tongue felt soft and woolly in her mouth.

"Molly? Thank God. Try to wake up," the voice whispered in her ear.

She tried to open her eyes. Her eyelids felt like sandpaper. "What the hell?" she mumbled.

"Ssshh. Don't talk too loud," the voice behind her said.

She was lying on her side and her lower arm was numb. She looked at the dusty concrete floor that stretched out in front of her. It disappeared into darkness a good twenty feet away. She reached up to push her hair out of her face, but her hand wouldn't move. It was tied behind her. Oh God, her hands were tied. With rope, like before. She frantically started pedaling her feet backwards. She had to get out of here now, right now, out, out, out. She backed into a warm body and started writhing against it. Meaningless mewling sounds were coming out of her mouth. The warm body collapsed on top of her, legs over her legs, chest pushing her torso down. A strong voice sounded right in her ear. "Stop, Molly, stop!" it said.

She stopped struggling, if only because her body felt like a limp dishrag. She slowly wiggled around, rotating under the weight of the other body, until she was finally looking up into the face of Lieutenant Flynn. He looked funny. His eyes were bloodshot and his arms seemed to be missing. There was just his torso pressing down on her.

"Mackie?" she whispered.

He nodded grimly and scooted back from her. "I'm sorry," he said quietly. He couldn't even meet her eyes. "He got us in the hospital parking lot."

"Does that mean Lieutenant Tao is okay?"

He looked up at her, startled. Then a slow grin lit up his face. "You…" He shook his head. "You're too much." He sat up on his elbow and tried to draw his legs up. A bright yellow rope was wrapped around his ankles. He grunted and sank back down to the floor.

"I can get up," Molly said. "He didn't tie my legs." She levered herself up to a sitting position. "I'll see if I can find a knife."

"No, Molly," he whispered harshly. "You've got to get out of here."

Footsteps echoed in the cavernous room and Molly froze. "Get back down!" Flynn hissed. "Pretend you're still out of it, but not too much."

Molly rolled over to her original position and tried to relax her body. Her heart was beating far too fast, and her breath was coming in short gasps. She closed her eyes and tried to match the slow breaths behind her. Footsteps entered the room. Footsteps she knew immediately, though she hadn't realized what an impression they'd made. Through her closed eyelids she could see that bright overhead lights were being turned on. The steps came closer.

"Tsk, tsk. Still out," a familiar voice murmured. "I should have cut the dose a little."

Molly suddenly remembered the hospital parking lot. Flynn had been upset, but tense as well. He had insisted on driving. They had only walked a few steps from the car when he suddenly shouted at her to get back in the car. She looked at him and saw a red cone appear on his shoulder blade, as if from out of thin air. A tranquilizer dart?

She felt a hard shoe kicking her on the shin. She stirred and moaned a little. Flynn was right. He would get suspicious if they were still completely unconscious.

Mackie seemed satisfied, because he walked away toward the back of the room. Molly listened for the sounds of surgical instruments being prepared, but instead heard large objects being moved around. Something that sounded like an airtight seal being broken. Then Mackie was walking back, rolling something on the gritty concrete floor. A wheel squeaked. Then his steps were retreating and a door closed. She let out her breath.

Scuffling movements sounded behind her. Molly rolled over and saw Flynn trying to sit up again. She pressed her legs against him so he could get some leverage. He grunted and finally pushed himself up. In the bright fluorescent lights his face was pale and his t-shirt, hastily put on that morning, was smeared with dust. Molly sat up and looked carefully at him. "You okay?" she said.

He nodded. "Just a little foggy still."

Molly started to work on getting her knees under her so she could stand. "I'm going to find a knife," she said.

"Don't bother. The room's empty except for some shelves on the back wall." His eyes were looking into the distance behind her. "They're too high for you to reach with your hands tied."

"Should I go for help?" she said. She felt sick at the thought of leaving him here in this tomb.

He shook his head. "There's a cargo door on that far wall, but I can see the padlock from here."

"What about the door Mackie used?" She could see it behind Flynn, at least thirty feet away. It was closed but she hadn't heard Mackie lock it.

"You're not going through that," he said in a tone that brooked no argument.

Her heart started to pound again and she turned to scan the rest of the room. There had to be a way out of here. Her eyes caught on the object to her right. A rusty old wheelchair holding a large bundle wrapped in blue. The bundle was shapeless, but there was no mistaking what it was. It was facing them, about fifteen feet away. Molly opened her mouth.

"Look at me, Molly," Flynn said sharply.

Molly barely managed to stifle the scream. She turned toward Flynn. His dark eyes grabbed hers. "You don't need to look at that," he said. "There's something I want you to do."

She shut her mouth and nodded.

"I want you to rotate your wrists back and forth just a little bit."

His eyes never left hers. She held onto the strength in them and slowly moved her wrists in their tight binding.

"Okay, did that make the rope feel tighter or looser?" he asked.

Molly wiggled her arm. It had to be her imagination, but the rope did seem just slightly looser. "Maybe looser," she whispered.

"But not tighter?"

She shook her head.

Flynn let out a sigh of relief. "Keep rotating them," he said. "Not too hard, just a little at a time."

Molly worked her wrists back and forth. "Are yours getting looser?" she asked.

He shook his head. "He used nylon on mine. All they're doing is cutting up my skin. But I saw earlier that yours looked like cotton, an old clothesline or something. He must have run out of good rope. And he doesn't seem to know how to tie the kind of knot that gets tighter as you work on it."

"How long will it take?" she asked.

"Don't worry about that," he said. "Tell me about your dog, Bandit. What breed was he?"

Molly stared at him. He was watching her, waiting for an answer. "He-" She stopped to clear her throat. "He was a mutt," she finally said. "My parents let me pick him out at the shelter." She twisted her wrists a little more. The rope was becoming damp with her sweat.

"You were an only child, right?"

She nodded and told him about how lonely she had been before Bandit came along. She had begged her parents for months to let her get a dog. She dressed the poor thing up in scarves and ribbons and hair scrunchies, and he always put up with it.

They exhausted the topic of Bandit and moved on to Flynn's own problems with loneliness and alcohol, how much he missed his kids, how important AA had become to him. It was the only place where he could fully let down the guard he kept so firmly in place at work.

"How's the rope?" he finally asked. His tone was casual, but the tightness in his jaw gave him away.

"So-so," she said. "Looser, but nowhere near loose enough."

"Turn around and let me see."

He was silent for a moment as she showed him her wrists. "It's almost there," he said.

"You are such a liar."

"No, really. Just keep working at it."

Molly continued to work at the rope. "That…thing…over there. It's dripping," she said. There was a small puddle under the wheelchair.

"It's thawing," Flynn said.

"Thawing?"

"Yeah, there must be a walk-in freezer in here somewhere."

"What the hell is it?"

"Wait. I'm going to try something. It's a little gross, but don't freak out." She heard him spit several times and her wrists dampened. "See if that helps," he said.

She moved her wrists in the now wet rope and felt the right side stretch out. "Oh my God," she said.

"That's it. Keep going. Not too hard," he muttered as he watched her.

She focused on moving her right wrist, which was starting to become raw. "Is it a body?" she finally asked.

"I think it's his mother," Flynn said.

"Are you kidding?"

"It makes sense. He wants to prove to her that he made it. He wants her to see how good he is."

"Are you saying he's going to do an operation in front of her?"

"Maybe. But that doesn't explain why he's thawing her out first." He paused. "She kept telling him to save her, right?"

"Yeah, but he failed."

"Maybe he thinks he still can. Maybe he thinks if he can give her the right transplants she'll be cured."

"That's crazy!"

"Yeah, it is. Are you surprised?"

Molly felt the rope give a bit more. She could almost squeeze her right hand out of it, if she could just fold her thumb in a little further. Then Flynn's words sunk in. "God! Are you saying he's going to remove our organs and give them to her?"

"No, Molly. You're almost free. We're going to get out of here. Just pull a little harder."

Molly gasped as her hand slowly pulled through the rope, every inch of skin stinging.

"Quick. Get mine undone." His voice was tense.

Molly scrambled to get behind him. His wrists were bleeding under the bright yellow rope. She pulled frantically at the knots. They were tight and slick. "Dammit!" she said as one of her nails split to the quick. "They're too tight!"

"It's okay," he said steadily. "Just go see if there's anything on that shelf you can use."

She ran to the shelf and reached up to feel along the top. Grit, some loose screws, a piece of cardboard, and then her hand felt soft fabric. Her totebag! She had been carrying it to the hospital, and there was a nail file inside. She pulled the bag off the shelf and turned to show it to Flynn.

A key rattled in the lock of the door on the other side of the room. It had apparently been locked all along.

She shot Flynn an agonized look. He pointed to the wheelchair. "Get down!" he hissed. "Be his mother! Be his mother!"

Clutching the totebag, she dived down beside the wheelchair, out of the line of sight from the door. She didn't understand what Flynn was telling her to do. All she could think about was hiding from Mackie.

Mackie walked in wearing his favorite green scrubs. "So, Lieutenant, you're awake! Excellent! I want you to see…Wait? Where's the girl?"

"She got out of here, you moron. You couldn't even lock that cargo door properly."

Mackie spun around and yelled at the door. "It's locked! I didn't mess up!"

"Sure," Flynn said, "_now_ it is, but it wasn't twenty minutes ago. You better get out of here, Mackie. The FBI will be here any minute."

Molly moved slowly to the back of the chair to stay out of sight as Mackie spun back toward Flynn. She was feeling around in her bag, looking for anything that might work as a weapon. Could she kill with a nail file? Mackie started shrieking. "I'll kill you, you bastard!" Molly peeked around the side of the chair. Mackie was holding something shiny in his hand. A scalpel in a bright silver handle. He started toward Flynn, who was trying to back up.

Molly pitched her voice high and cried out, "Save me! Save me!"

Mackie froze. Slowly he turned around, eyes wide, and stared at the chair. "Ma?" he said hoarsely.

Molly's hand closed over something cold and hard in her bag. "Why didn't you save me, Stuart?" she called again.

Mackie shook his head. "I will, Ma, I will. Let me just get you a new kidney." He turned back toward Flynn, who had been creeping toward him, and raised the scalpel. "I'll save you, Ma!" he shouted.

Molly's first shot was high, but it stopped Mackie with his arm raised. She could hear Andy's voice as it had been on the firing range, telling her to grip with both hands and squeeze.

* * *

He watched the barrel of the gun quiver in her hands. He had been about to kick Mackie's legs out from under him, but he froze and let Molly try the shot again. She'd only had an hour on the range. Nowhere near enough time to get comfortable with that gun. He sent a silent prayer to his higher power.

_Bang!_

The shot was still ringing in his ears when Mackie fell, blood pouring from his chest. The gun clattered to the floor, and Molly subsided beside the gruesome wheelchair, wrapped her arms around her knees, and buried her face. Flynn scooted in that direction, pausing to feel Mackie's wrist and grab the scalpel on his way over. It was hard to do much with his hands tied behind him, but he was pretty sure Mackie was dead. If that wasn't a heart shot, it was damn close.

He leaned his shoulder against Molly's and let her shake for a while. He fumbled around with the scalpel behind his back, but all he managed to do was cut himself. A hiss of pain escaped his lips. Molly raised her head and looked at him as if she were seeing him for the first time. Then she suddenly wrapped her arms around him; hell, wrapped her whole body around him and clung for dear life.

He was not entirely satisfied with the situation, and he mumbled into her ear, "Hey, you think you could get me loose?"

She started laughing and crawled around behind him. Several agonizing seconds later his wrists were finally free, and he was able to turn and put his hands where they needed to be, deep in her dark hair, while he kissed her soft, sweet lips.

* * *

Epilogue

"You should have known I was tougher than that," Tao said. His face above his hospital gown wore a genuinely hurt expression.

"You know what a pessimist I am, Mike."

Tao looked down at Andy's right hand, which was linked casually with Molly's bandaged left. His eyebrow raised skeptically, but he didn't say anything. He scooped another spoonful of orange jello into his mouth.

Provenza spoke up from the corner of the crowded room. "Well, it was a dumb trick to fall for, Flynn, but at least you had someone intelligent around to bail your ass out."

Flynn chuckled. "Yeah, it was a new experience for me, Provenza."

While Provenza sputtered, Flynn wrapped his arm around Molly's shoulder. She slipped hers around his waist and leaned her head on his chest. The hard edges of his gun pressed against her side. She listened to his heart beating under his soft sweatshirt and knew she had finally found her family.

The End


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